


Held Fragile Like Glass

by missblatherskite



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-17 18:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14194653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblatherskite/pseuds/missblatherskite
Summary: She should never have let herself be an experiment.





	1. She Was The Liar

When she was with her she felt she like she was with the sun, so warm but not burning, light coursing through her. When she was with her she felt like she was pure as an actual angel, precious as the stone she wore around her neck. When she was with her she felt paper thin, see through, but strong as stone, untouchable by anything troubling.

 

But she wasn’t with her now. Clary was out with him, laughing with him, touching him. She was being his sun instead of hers. It hurt more than she wanted it to. She felt lost, alone like this, in her room, staring at the wall.

 

There was a picture of them on her vanity, Clary with her arms around her, and Izzy was looking at her like she was the only one there, despite her brothers and Simon being in the picture too. Sometimes she thought of cutting everyone else out so it was just the two of them, just their smiles shining out at her. She never did—but all she wanted was a picture just of them.

 

She was sitting on her bed, hands clutching her sheets—the sheets they had rolled around in, bare skin against them, fingers grasping them. She was convinced they had absorbed some of them, some of their lust, some of her love, determined to torture her whenever she touched them. And when she tried to sleep they filled her mind with memories of that night, that beautiful night. They should have been changed last week but she couldn’t bring herself to. Couldn’t wash their night away.

 

She never should have let her in that night, Never should have let Clary’s trembling hands touch her face, let her soft lips touch hers. She shouldn’t have given in to her “please” to her “I just need to know.” She should have turned her away. She should have hardened her heart, let it crystalize as she touched her, instead of breaking wide open. She should never have settled for having her for one, experimental, night. She had done this to herself.

 

She didn’t cry over it. There were far worse things to cry over. She could be strong with this. But she couldn’t control the way her heart seized in her chest, how her breath caught in pain when she saw her in the halls, flirting with him. She did this to herself, she would try to tell herself. It was her fault, not Clary’s. She had been upfront, she had been honest. Clary had never pretended not to love her. It was she who was the liar.

 


	2. Change the Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tries to get over her.

She couldn’t look her in the eye, she couldn’t touch her casually. She couldn’t stand being too close to her, to being in a room alone with her. She wished she wasn’t so bad at pretending that everything was all right.

 

Clary didn’t notice, and she wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. It saved her embarrassment, of course. It saved her from pitying glances, from awkward silences. It saved her from a discussion she never wanted to have. It also meant, truly, truly, meant that she didn’t mean as much to Clary as she did to her. She was so wrapped up in him Clary could barely see her, and it was a knife to her chest.

 

Alec noticed. He watched her with shrewd eyes and questioning glances. He watched the way she glanced at Clary, flinched at the slight of _them_ together, and she could see the moment his furrowed brow relaxed. He knew, then. He tried to talk to her, tried to be there for her, but she couldn’t let him. If she let him in, if she talked about it she would break down. She would cry and rage and cling to him like she was still a little girl. So she shook her head, gently pushed him away when he came to her. She had resolved not to cry over her and she wouldn’t fail.

 

It was three weeks after they slept together that she finally changed her sheets. They still had the imaginary scent of her on them, still ghosted the feel of her skin at her touch, but it was time. She shoved them in the washer and turned away before she could regret her decision, watch them through the top, washing away the last physical trace.

 

It was four weeks after that she put the picture away, the picture that revealed so much. She couldn’t look at it anymore, couldn’t see the look on her face mocking her. She couldn’t hold onto it if she was going to move on.

 

So when they glanced at each other, starry eyed, she held herself still, made herself look. When she caught them kissing in the hallways she waited, counted out a few seconds in her head before turning around. Exposure therapy. She wondered how long it would take before the ache in her chest stopped, before she was numb to them. Numb to her.

 

She was getting better, she thought. She was meeting her eyes again, she was speaking to her like normal. She wasn’t dreaming about her every night anymore. It was going away, she thought. Slowly but surely, she was getting over her.

 

And then one day everything broke. She was walking to her room, none too quiet, heels clicking. They should have heard her. They shouldn’t have let her hear what she shouldn’t. Because when she passed his room, door ajar, heard his “I love you” everything she had been working on disappeared. She ran. She ran the small distance to her room, not caring how loud she was, not caring that they could surely hear her slam the door.

 

That was when she cried. That was when she silently heaved, heavy eye makeup running down her face. She barely registered it. All she could think of was her, was him, was them together. All she could think was that it was truly over, that any chance she clung to in the back of her mind was gone. Everything was over. She would never be hers.

 

She wanted this to be done, she wanted to stop feeling like this. She wanted Clary to be on the other side of the globe, she wanted her feelings to disappear, she wanted to have never met her.

 

She wanted to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Comments warm my little goblin heart.


	3. Harden Your Heart

Is she didn’t have duties, she wouldn’t have left her bed for a day. As it was there was training, there was patrol, there was paperwork. She should be grateful, really. She had already cried herself out, already broken her promise to herself. She didn’t need to be even more pathetic.

 

She didn’t bother pretending to be alright, she didn’t have the energy. Everything was exhausting her, everything she had to do to keep herself on her feet compounding to cement, weighing her down to drown. She didn’t smile, she couldn’t even keep a neutral face it seemed, if the glances her way were any indication. She ignored them all, kept her head down, went about her responsibilities in silence.

 

Jace, Clary, and Alec were all busy and didn’t see her state, didn’t see her unbrushed hair, didn’t see her lack of makeup, her casual, ugly clothes. Part of her wanted them to see, wanted her to see—see what she had done to her. But then, would she even know she was the cause? Would she be aware enough to understand what that night had truly meant? Probably not, Clary never understood the feelings she could cause, the way she could break people so easily.

 

She went to bed feeling worse, staring up at her ceiling, not bothering to try and sleep. For all the dreams of her had stopped, she didn’t trust her mind tonight. She didn’t trust it not to bring them out in technicolor, stronger than before. She didn’t care that she would pay for it in the morning, that the dark circles, from two days, under her eyes would make her look even worse—might raise questions.

 

And they did, raise questions. Alec at first, her big brother who wore a worried frown when he asked what was wrong. Jace in a casual way, feigning not being as concerned as she knew he really was. She only understood how awful she looked when it was Clary who approached her, who asked her what was wrong. Clary who lowered her voice and asked if she wanted to talk, who reached for her hand like it was nothing.

 

She couldn’t bring herself to stop from flinching, but couldn’t pull away either. Her hand was warm, and rough like a true shadowhunter’s. It felt like grace on her skin. Seconds ticked by, her standing there, looking at their hands, just _feeling_ them together.

 

Then she pulled away. It wouldn’t happen again, she couldn’t let it. She wasn’t sure what she said to Clary, only that it was biting, vicious, before she turned away and quickly fled the room. She couldn’t be her friend, when she wanted so much more. If she was going to survive she had to separate herself, untangle herself from her. She had to be cruel, she had to be hard.

 

Maybe if she could hate her, maybe if she could force the love out of her heart, she wouldn’t hurt so much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update while I work on a longer one. Not so sure about this? but hoping it's okay


	4. Cruelty Doesn't Help

Everyone was angry. Jace was angry, Clary was angry—even she was angry. At herself. She’d never been like this, she’d never been cruel. But now here she was, ignoring Clary at every turn, being curt and unpleasant when she couldn’t. It wasn’t natural to hurt, every word was forced out through gritted teeth, not wanting to be voiced. She wanted to be soft, she wanted to comfort her. She wanted to wipe the confusion from her face, to take the hurt she so clearly showed.

 

But she had to do it. She wasn’t strong enough to tell Clary what was happening, why she was doing this. She was barely strong enough for this. Eventually, Clary would stop trying to ask her what was wrong, eventually their friendship would be irreparably broken. And then everything would be better. Then she would hurt less. She hoped.

 

It lasted two weeks before Alec cornered her, demanded she stop. He told her he understood what she was doing, what she was trying, and told her that it wouldn’t work. She told her that he was sorry for her, that he loved her. That she was only hurting herself.

 

And like she knew she would she was instantly the little sister, wrapped in her big brother’s arms, crying like she loathed to.

 

It worked, because it was so easy to stop, she had so wanted to stop. She stopped being cruel, she stopped snapping at her, stopped brushing past her like she was almost there. She wasn’t friendly, but she wasn’t awful. She stopped hurting her. And she was happy about that.

 

Of course, that couldn’t just end it. Clary wouldn’t let it go—kept trying to corner her to ask what was going on, why she had been like that. She managed to avoid it for days, always an excuse, always another shadowhunter nearby as a buffer. But she wasn’t foolish enough to think that it would never come.

 

And then it did. Clary came to her, unlocking her door at night. She was wearing the same night clothes she had that night. She wondered if she even realized it.

 

She was fierce, angry, confused, hurt. She let everything out in whispers, careful not to wake anyone. She asked what she had done wrong, what was so horrible that Izzy would treat her like that? And there it was, the question Izzy couldn’t answer. Because she hadn’t done anything horrible. It was all her. She was the horrible one. It was all her. Clary was, had been, as perfect as she always was.

 

And so she avoided it, said she was sorry and meant it. She pushed the tears back but knew she still saw them. She asked, pleaded for her forgiveness. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her, she never should have hurt her. It was one of the worst things she had ever done.

 

And because she was Clary, she forgave her. She forgave her and hugged her and said she still loved her. (Like a friend, dear God, only like a friend). And something in Isabelle healed, just as something else broke even further. She could do this. She could be her friend. Because it would make Clary happy. And more than anything she wanted Clary to be happy. So she would do this, she would be her friend, her sister. She would swallow her hurt and only show her love—her appropriate amount of love—and take care of her as much as she was allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about this chapter. I'm not sure if I like making Izzy be mean like that, but I decided to go with it and fix it in the next chapter.


	5. Surety

It was almost back to normal, after that. Isabelle suppressed what she needed to to keep it that way. It was her problem, after all, not Clary’s. She had been selfish and cruel to treat her like that, and she would make sure it didn’t happen again. She wouldn’t hurt her like that again.

 

Slowly, slowly, they repaired their friendship to what it once was. Finally Clary’s smiles towards her were the same mega watts they had been before, and the confidences they took in each other the same—except for her feelings, of course.

 

So it was one day, when missions were slow, that Isabelle first learned of Clary’s problems with Jace.

 

“He told me he loved me, did you know? He actually said it, and I said it back, of course, but…I mean, I should love him, right? Everything we’ve went through, I should be sure…but I’m not. I’m not sure I actually love him. Izzy, what do I do?”

 

A new ache bloomed in her chest. Clary didn’t love Jace. Or, she wasn’t sure she did. They weren’t as stable as she had thought. She had a chance, a small, small chance. So why wasn’t it making her happy?

 

“Maybe you just need more time than him. It hasn’t been that long, Clary, not for mundanes. And for most of your life you lived like a mundane. They take romances slower than we do.”

 

Clary nodded slowly, taking it in. Shadowhunters loved hard and fast and Jace was no different (Izzy was no different). She had seen her with him, seen her happiness. She just needed more time. There wasn’t hope for them, no more so than before her confession.

 

Clary leaned her head against her shoulder, and it was all she could do not to nuzzle her hair, breathe it in. This didn’t change anything, she told herself again. They were still only friends. They would still only ever be friends.

 

But she couldn’t stop herself from watching after that. She noticed little things, now. She noticed how sometimes Clary’s laugh would be a little too loud with him, a little too falsely bright. She noticed the guilty look she’d sometimes wear on her face when he’d kiss her after missions. They never said I love you in public, but Izzy was sure Clary was having trouble with that too.

 

And then it happened. The shouting that woke her up, no doubt woke everyone up. She couldn’t make out the words, the walls were thick enough for that, but she could hear the anguished tone in Jace’s voice, she could hear the hurt in Clary’s. Had she told him, then?

 

It seemed to go on for ages, but really it must have been a couple minutes. A slam of the door and it was over, everything was deathly quiet. Until there was a knock on the door. Clary.

 

Isabelle rushed out of her bed, not caring about the mess she must look, and yanked open her door. And there she was. Face red and streaked with tears, a small amount of snot coming out of her nose.

 

“Izzy…”

 

And so she gathered her up in her arms and let her cry on her, rocked her back and forth. She wanted was to make everything better for her, but this was all she could do.

 

It was a terrible thing, to see someone she loved in so much pain. She wanted to take it away. She wanted to make it alright. She cursed herself for every time she wished they could be together, that Jace wasn’t in the picture. It wasn’t worth this. It wasn’t worth the hurt it caused Clary.

 

She held her until the sniffling stopped, and she started to turn into a tired mess of dead weight. So Isabelle led her to the bed and tucked her in, kissed her forehead, whispered it would be alright.

 

She hoped it wasn’t a lie.


	6. Knowing

It was a long night, lying next to her in bed. She was curled up to one side, doing her best not to touch her in any way. Clary had fallen asleep quickly, and in her sleep had no problem with taking over more than half the bed, her skin mere inches away from Isabelle’s. 

“I knew, you know.” 

Isabelle turned over, feeling rumpled and tired, to see Clary staring at her, red hair tangled from a night of tossing and turning. 

“I mean, not at the beginning, not when it happened. But after. I knew. And I didn’t know what to do, how to address it, so I didn’t. And I’m so sorry about that, Izzy. I’m so sorry I hurt you like that.”

Her breathe caught in her throat. Clary had known. All this time, all the pain she was going through…and she knew about it. And ignored it. 

“I never should have just…let everything stay unsaid. I should have talked to you. Instead I left you feeling everything alone. I’m sorry.”

There were slight tears glittering in her eyes, and Isabelle wasn’t sure what to make of them. She wanted to comfort her, she wanted to say everything was okay—but was it? Was that really something she could forgive so easily? She didn’t know, so she didn’t say anything, just let her eyes stay locked with Clary’s until she couldn’t anyone, flinched and looked away. 

“I only understood how much I had hurt you after I confronted you. You didn’t say why you were acting like you were, and…I realized why. Before, I thought it was just a crush. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You’re in love with me.”

She couldn’t look up. She couldn’t let herself meet her gaze or her eyes would give everything away. 

“You always forgive me, Izzy, whenever I mess up. Even when I don’t deserve it. And I don’t deserve it now. And I don’t expect you to forgive me this time. I just hope you do. Because you’re important to me. And I love you, even if it’s not how you love me.”

Clary slipped out of bed and silently made her way to the door. She heard it open and close, and only then did she allow the few tears in her eyes to fall. 

It was all too much to take it, Clary’s confession echoing around her head. So she closed her eyes, tried her best t clear her mind, and prayed for sleep to finally come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a very very short update while I figure out where I want this to go. I might need some time as I am forever crying over news of the cancellation.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as the chapters go on. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Comments warm my little goblin heart.
> 
> Title from "Wanna Be Missed" by Hayley Kiyoko


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